It's All Relative
by JewishNinjaChick
Summary: Completely AU mini-series about the NCIS characters. Most of their usual character personalities apply, except they are all an actual biological family. Jethro and Jenny are the parents, and the other characters' ages vary, as they are children. Very lighthearted and family-oriented. Not sure how many chapters there will be. *notice: very, very minor adult language in some chapters
1. Babysitter

**A/N: This is a completely AU mini-series about the NCIS characters. Most of their usual character personalities apply, except they are all an actual biological family. Jethro and Jenny are married, and they have 5 children: Kate (age 11), Abby and Tony (twins, age 7), Timmy (age 5), and Ziva (age 2). There are various pets in some of the chapters, too. Jenny and Jethro are both NCIS field agents. I am not sure how many chapters there will be, and each chapter/story can be read and understood individually. Enjoy, and please review :]**

_**BABYSITTER**_

As we were leaving work, my husband, Jethro, stopped me in the parking lot.

"How long has it been since we've been on a real date?" he asked me, pulling me in closer to him.

"Too long," I replied, "but with five children, it is too hard to find time."

"You know," he said, "The woman next door told me she has an 18 year old niece looking for a babysitting job. She gave me her number last week. We could call her."

I was hesitant, but finally my husband convinced me to call her. She excitedly agreed, saying she would love to watch our children the following night. I had generously offered her $20 per hour, but I knew she was in for a longer, more tiring night that she was anticipating. She had not met my children yet.

The next night, our neighbor's niece, Sadie, came over around 18:00. She had a backpack full of kid-friendly stuff. Someone had obviously prepped her in child care 101, which settled my stomach a little.

I introduced her to the kids, and, thankfully, they seemed pleased at the plan for the evening. Abby was already hugging her.

Getting Sadie alone, I gave her a heads up on what to expect from my kids.

"Kate will be your little assistant. She will not give you any problems. Tony is my biggest trouble maker. You will find a trail of messes everywhere he goes. You need to watch him carefully. Abby is the sweetheart of the group. Watch out for overwhelming hugs and kisses from her." Sadie smiled at that. I continued, "Oh, and she hates sleeping in her own bed. She will sleep just about anywhere in the house...the stairs, the couch, the kitchen floor...anywhere. Do not be alarmed by it. Also, keep her away from caffeinated drinks, or she'll never go to sleep. Timmy is usually fine, he likes video games. Just keep an eye on him. Last week he put a CD in the microwave. Finally, Ziva is very attached to Kate, as Kate is to Ziva. It is not really a problem, but do remind Kate that she needs to stop playing with her baby sister long enough to do her homework. You should not have to take care of Ziva much. Kate is very protective of her and takes care of her every need."

Sadie took a moment to process all the information I had just given her, and then assured me my children would be very safe with her.

Leaving my kids with a babysitter was something I rarely did. Of course they had been to day care centers and schools and stuff like that, but rarely an in-home babysitter without any real certifications. However, Sadie's responsible personality, and the fact that my kids were already excited made me feel much better about the situation.

Jethro held my coat out for me, and I was really beginning to look forward to our alone time. As I walked out the front door, I turned back one more time and told them all to have fun.

"We will!" Sadie said, Tony already trying to pull a DVD out of her hand.

*  
After a wonderful child-free evening of kisses and cocktails, Jethro and I returned home to find the house completely dark except for a small light coming from the family room. Following the dim light, we entered the room to find all of the pillows and blankets from the whole house forming a fort that stretched across the room from the couch to the coffee table.

"Hello?" Jethro said, kneeling down to pull back one of the blankets that formed the door of the fort.

"In here, Dad!" said Timmy.

I got down on my knees and crawled in the fort behind my husband. It was very roomy and campfire-like. Quite cozy, actually. Sadie was sitting there with an open book in her lap and a flashlight in her hand. Each one of my kids, all wearing their pajamas and forming a half-circle around Sadie, had a flashlight too, along with a paper plate of S'mores.

I looked at Sadie, then at my kids. "Did we have fun tonight?"

I was answered by a chorus of "yes!" and "best night ever!" Apparently Sadie knew her stuff.

"We are having a great time, Mr. and Mrs. Gibbs!" Sadie said, "We are reading Curious George, at Ziva's request."

"Sounds like fun!" I said, "I will let you guys finish. Just make sure this all gets put away when you're done."

Jethro and I crawled back out, being careful not to knock over any parts of their fort in the process.

In the kitchen, I cleaned up the mess around the stove from the S'mores, then started making hot chocolate for Sadie and the kids.

Jethro walked up behind me and put his arms around my waist. I leaned in to his embrace.

"So," he whispered in to my hair, "Does this mean we get to go out more often?"

I smiled. Sadie was pretty good with the kids. She clearly knew what she was doing, and getting my kids to put their pajamas on and sit down to do a quiet activity was no easy task. I had to give the girl credit.

"I suppose it does," I replied quietly, and mentally I made a note to thank the neighbor.


	2. Feather

_**FEATHER**_

On a beautiful, sunny Sunday afternoon, Jethro and I took the kids to the park for a picnic. There were a lot of kids there, so four of my kids went over to the playground and played with the other children. Tony, however, saw a flock of geese in a field on the other side of the park.

Seeing a chance to create chaos, he ran to the field and started chasing the geese around. Some of the geese flew away, but most of them just moved away from my son.

About five minutes later, Tony ran over to the playground to join the rest of the kids. From where Jethro and I sat, I could see Tony showing his siblings a feather that he had picked up from the field.

Abby gasped and took the feather from her twin brother.

"No, Tony! That's stealing!" she said.

Within seconds, Abby was running back towards the geese, but instead of chasing them like my son had been doing, she was trying to give them their feather back.


	3. Preschool

_**PRESCHOOL**_

As a parent, one thing I always worry about is dropping my kids of at school on the first day. I mean, like, the very first day.

Caitlin's first day of preschool was probably scarier for me than it was for her. She was my only child at the time, as I did not have Tony and Abby until Kate was 4 years old, and she started preschool at age 3.

Kate seemed excited about it; after all, school was a "big girl" thing in her mind. I put her in the cutest little outfit; a denim skirt, white tights, a cute little shirt, and some sparkly shoes. My daughter has always been very fashionable, and the first day of preschool was no exception.

The entire time we were in the car, she kept reminding me it was her first day of school. She was quite apparently excited. At the door, the friendly preschool teacher introduced herself to us, and Kate immediately ran off to play. I was shocked at how easy it was. My daughter acted so mature, as if she came here every day. As much as I hated to say it, I was slightly hurt that it was no big thing for my daughter to say goodbye to me. There was a slight pang of jealousy to the other parents whose kids clung to them with separation anxiety.

I realized I spoke too soon when, a few short years later, it was Abby and Tony's first day of preschool, and I had a completely different experience.

They had a Disney movie playing in one corner of the room, so getting Tony to go join the other kids was no problem. He heard the word "movie", and he was gone. Abigail, however, wrapped herself around me as if I was leaving her to be eaten alive by a pack of hungry lions. She hates change, and preschool was definitely a big one.

"Abbs," I said, picking her up, "look at Tony making all those new friends! Don't you want to go play with them, too?"

She briefly turned to look, but then buried her face in to my shoulder.

We went through this every day for over a week. The tears and temper-tantrums...it was a fight getting her to stay at school without me. Finally one morning one of Abby's teachers sat down with Abby and me.

"Mrs. Gibbs," she asked me, "What are Abby's favorite things?"

I told her that my daughter loved stuffed animals and science, and that her favorite day of the year was Halloween.

The teacher left the room, and came back about five minutes later. This time, she took Abby by the hand and led her to a table on the left side of the room where she had put a kid's size microscope with a plastic spider under it, a little magnifying glass, and a basket of stuffed animals next to it. After that, it was really never a problem dropping Abby off at preschool. She quickly learned to love it; all it took was a teacher who was willing to work with her.

Thankfully, Timmy was not nearly as challenging. Just as Tony had heard the word "movie" and he was hooked, when Timmy heard the word "computer", he automatically thought preschool was heaven. I warned the preschool teacher that she needed to watch Timmy on the computer, as he liked to get in to stuff he probably shouldn't.

The teacher assured me the computers were child-proof, and all games on them were age appropriate and monitored carefully. I told her she hadn't met Timmy yet.

I am temporarily out of the preschool stage this year, until Ziva starts next fall. I am nervous to see how that goes...she tends to be a bit of a troublemaker, but some things may surprise me.


	4. Laptop

_**LAPTOP**_

Weekday mornings are always hectic in the Gibbs house. Jethro and I get ready for work, get the kids ready, and get them all to school and day care in a very (ok, fine, not very) organized manner. He and I usually get up before the kids, then when we are done, we get all the kids up.

Today, I was checking my e-mail before I had to start making everyone's lunches. I left my laptop open on the counter, and I noticed Timmy playing with it while he was clumsily eating his cereal. I did not mind him playing; he probably knows the computer almost as well as I do, despite the fact that he's five.

In the rush to leave the house, I threw my laptop in my backpack. I would finish what I was doing when I got to work.

I finally got back to my computer about halfway through my work day. I opened the laptop and pressed the power button. When the home screen came up, I entered my password, but a notice popped up saying my password was incorrect. I entered it again, and again, but still the notice popped up.

It wasn't until I brought my laptop to the computer technician down in the lab that I was informed that Timmy had changed my password, therefore locking me out of the entire system.

There are, in fact, ups and downs to having a computer genius for a son.


	5. Fighter

_**FIGHTER**_

They say every child goes through a "terrible twos" stage where they constantly cry, misbehave, and, of course, hit and kick.

With Abby and Timmy, this stage was hardly existent. Timmy has always been very quiet and timid, and Abby is more of a lover than a fighter. Tony and Kate really were not bad. Kate was an only child until she was 4, so it was not like she ever had little siblings to pick on when she was 2. She did push the kids at the playground around a little bit, and right before her 3rd birthday she had this habit of throwing food at people, but it was nothing uncontrollable. When Tony was 2, so was Abby, of course, and Kate was 6 at the time. Tony never really bothered messing with Abby much during this stage, mostly because Abby is too sweet to fight with. He got aggravated with Kate a lot though, and liked to pick on her. He didn't physically pick on her so much, not like hitting or kicking, it was more just...picking on her. For example, he would hide her stuff, or insult the outfits that she put so much time and thought in to every day. He was a pest (not that that's changed), but, like Kate, nothing uncontrollable.

My youngest child, Ziva, however, is practically the definition of terrible twos.

First of all, Ziva likes to hit anything and everything in sight. If she doesn't like the cartoon on the TV, she hits the TV. If she is mad at a sibling, she punches them. If she gets bored of a toy, she kicks it across the room.

Secondly, Ziva is quite disobedient. She draws on walls and intentionally pulls Abby's dolls heads off. Her vocabulary mainly consists of "no", "nuh-uh", and angry stare-downs. If she is being reprimanded and does not like what she is hearing, she simply turns around and walks out of the room. She is getting pretty good at walking at this point, so sometimes it is hard to catch her. She loves to crawl under or behind large fixtures in the room where it is too hard for my husband and me to get her.

Jethro and I have made every attempt to break her of these habits. She rarely listens to us, and although she is slowly getting better, it doesn't look like this stage will end any time soon. The doctors have told me time and time again that she will eventually calm down. I hope they are right, or her school years are going to be a disaster for her teachers, not to mention Jethro and myself.

Now, do not get the idea that my daughter is some crazy lunatic terrorist child. Sometimes she can be very sweet and loving. There is one person, especially, who Ziva usually responds well to: her older sister, Kate. Kate has always had a special place in her heart for her baby sister, and spoils her rotten. I often think about telling Kate that she needs to teach Ziva to share and be kind, instead of tending to her every need, but I do like knowing that if I really need Ziva to do something, I can ask Kate for assistance. It sounds totally backwards, not to mention wrong to use my oldest daughter as a tool, but, hey, I need some way to get my youngest to cooperate, right?

For example, this morning it was chilly, and I was trying to get Ziva to put a coat on. Of course, she was resisting as usual, but then Kate walked up, took her own jacket out of the closet, and put it on. Suddenly, Ziva could not get her coat on quick enough.

So, sure, Ziva can be a challenge at times. She needs to learn to keep her fists and mouth under control. But one thing's for sure; my daughter is a fighter, and for this I am proud.


	6. Stick Around

_**STICK AROUND FOR AWHILE**_

It was a summer Tuesday afternoon, and I was home with the kids because I had worked all through the night last night on a case. Much to my appreciation, the director let me have a day off.

I had just put Ziva down for a nap, and was sitting at the computer when Tony and Timmy raced to my side, Tony holding something trapped in a soggy butterfly net.

Holding the net out to me, Tony happily exclaimed, "Mom! Look what Timmy and I found in the pond!"

Looking closely, I could see a bullfrog inside the net, frantically hopping around, trying to find a way out.

"Oh, well look at that!" I said, cupping my hand around the bottom of the net, "He is one good looking frog. Take him back outside if you are going to play with him, please. I do not need a wet, slimy frog in the house."

The boys nodded, then proceeded out the back door and in to the yard.

A few hours later, while I was making dinner, Kate appeared next to me at the stove.

"Mom," she said with a confused look on her face, "Why is there a frog in a Ziploc bag in Ziva's crib?"

I stopped what I was doing and walked to the living room.

I yelled upstairs to the boys' rooms, "Anthony and Timothy, come here!"

They obediently came down. I turned back to my oldest daughter. "Kate," I said, "Can you ask your brothers the same question you just asked me?"

Kate repeated the question.

Tony and Timmy looked at each other, then back at me.

"I thought Ziva might like to play with the froggy too," Tony said quietly.

I laughed at my 7-year-old's innocence. His sincerity was too cute for words.

"Tony," I said, trying not to laugh, "That was nice of you to want to give Ziva a turn, but the froggy cannot breathe inside that plastic bag. Please go get him."

Tony and Timmy ran back upstairs to retrieve the frog, who I was sure was not doing well.

Before the kids went to bed, I went in to each of their rooms to empty their laundry. In Abby's room, I glanced up at the wall. She had a big white and pink Paul Frank skull head wall cling on the wall across from her bed, and when I looked at it, it did not look quite right. There was something in one of its eyes. Dropping the laundry basket and moving closer, I tried to get a better view of what it was. The thing on the wall was...moving? No. It couldn't be, I told myself. But it was. There stuck the frog. _On the wall. In Abby's room_. All I could do was roll my eyes. After all, these were _my_ children. Far from normal.

Using my mom voice, I yelled for Tony and Timmy for the second time that day.

"Boys, what did I tell you about the frog?" I asked, kneeling down to their level.

"You said we hadda take it outta the bag," Timmy said in his innocent little 5 year old voice.

"Yeah Mom," added Tony, "We took it out of the bag!"

I closed my eyes, and I half laughed and half sighed. It was kind of my own fault. All I told them was to remove the poor little animal from the bag. I had not instructed them to put it back outside.

"Boys, can you get the frog and put him back outside where he belongs please?" I asked.

"Nooooooooo!" I heard. It was coming from somewhere down the hall. Within seconds, Abigail appeared in the doorway of her bedroom. "Mom!" She pleaded, "Please let us keep him!"

Abby, Timmy, and Tony all stood there looking at me, waiting for the verdict. I looked over at the frog, all slimy and gross and stuck to the wall. I looked back at my kids, their eyes wide and hopeful. I decided this was a lost cause.

"Jethro?" I yelled down the stairs to my husband, "Can you bring me a clear Tupperware container with some holes drilled in the top? I think the kids made a new friend who will be sticking around for a while."


	7. BandAid

_**BAND-AID**_

One night, the kids were running around the yard chasing lightning bugs. Kate tripped over a tree branch that had fallen off the Oak tree, and she got a good sized scuff on her knee.

Seeing that his sister was hurt, along with the chance for him to be the hero, Timmy exclaimed, "Kate! I go get you a band-aid!", and with that the 5-year-old raced in to the house.

Ziva, Tony, and Abby came over and sat in the grass next to Kate.

"Kate be okay?" Ziva said, trying to comprehend the injury the best a 2-year-old could. Whenever Ziva got hurt, she did not cry, but instead examined the cut or scrape with intense curiosity.

"Yes, Ziva, she will be fine." I said, "Timmy is getting her a band-aid."

Abby leaned down and kissed the cut. "I kissed it, so it will get better faster now," she said.

Just when I was going to send Jethro in to check on Timmy, the door opened and Timmy was coming back outside.

Rushing over to Kate, he said, "Here, Kate! I got you a band-aid. This one is extra padded so it doesn't hurt as much."

Just as he was about to put it on her, I realized he was not holding a band-aid, but one of my maxi-pads instead.

Laughing, I watched as Timmy carefully and meticulously took the protective paper off the back and put the "band-aid" on Kate's scrape. Jethro gave me a look, like, "what do we do?!", but I just shrugged it off. Kate didn't seem to realize the difference, so I figured I would just tell her it was time to put a new band-aid on in an hour or so...except this time, I would get the band-aid myself.


	8. First Crush

_**FIRST CRUSH**_

I was getting ready for bed when my 11-year-old daughter, Kate, came in to my room and sat down on the bed.

"Mom," she said, "I made a new friend at school today."

"That's great, Caitlin!" I said, "What's her name?"

A small smile spread across her face, "Actually, he's a boy, and his name is Zach."

I knew where this conversation was headed. Sitting down on the bed next to Kate, I said, "So, let me guess. You like Zach?"

My daughter smiled an embarrassed but happy smile, then nodded.

"Where did you meet Zach?" I asked.

"On the playground. He is in one of the other 5th grade classes. I met him during recess today when we were playing Dodge ball with his class." Kate paused, then said, "I don't know what to say to him."

"Well, next time you see him, just talk to him. Say hello. Maybe ask him if he knows what day the book fair is or when the next pep assembly will be."

"Ok," Kate replied, pondering what I said. "Thanks mom"

In the morning, I had to get to work early, so I left before Jethro or the kids were up.

I was sitting at my desk writing a report and enjoying a cup of coffee when I got a call from Jethro.

"Jenny?" he asked me, "Did you buy Kate this outfit?"

"What outfit?" I asked.

"The one she's wearing. A short leather skirt, red tights, a grey and red sweater, and leather boots. She looks very...grown up."

I smiled. "Just make sure she has a coat on. It is cold outside."

"Oh, and Jethro?" I quickly added before hanging up, "Tell Kate my red lipstick is on my dresser."


	9. Beach

_**BEACH**_

The other day, I was folding laundry when I (very stupidly) ignored Abigail coming in to the room and asking me where her swimsuit was.

It was the middle of November, and my 7 year old asking me about a swimsuit should have raised a red flag, but I apparently was so engrossed in getting the laundry done that I paid no attention. I simply told her I had put it in her summer clothes drawer several months ago, and went back to what I was doing.

It took me over an hour to fold the laundry, and it was not until I was done that I noticed the unusual silence that occupied the house. Never am I able to get any work done without a child or two...or three...interrupting me.

I was torn between going to look for the kids to see what they were up to, or just sitting and enjoying the silence. If they were this quiet, I probably did not want to know what they were doing. Finally the good parent side of me decided to go looking for the kids.

I heard laughter in the kitchen, so I followed it. Walking in to the kitchen, I saw all the tables and chairs pushed against the walls and my kids sitting in the middle of the tile floor all wearing their swimsuits. However, they were not just sitting on the floor; no, that would be too easy. They had covered the kitchen floor in corn meal. My jaw dropped.

Seeing me enter the room, my two year old, Ziva, shrieked "Beach!", and picked up a handful of the corn meal "sand" in her hands, tossing it in the air, laughing at her mess.

I stood there for several seconds, not knowing what to say. Where could I start? I was not particularly angry, but this would take hours to clean up, and if I cleaned it up now I would get a late start making dinner. Thinking quickly, I compromised.

"Looks like you have quite a beach here!" I told the kids, "How about while I make dinner, you kids set up some towels and paper plates, and we can eat on the beach?"

Jethro was going to kill me.

The kids all agreed. They very much liked the idea of eating on their beach.

I made some sandwiches and cut up some fruit for dinner. Jethro accepted the idea quite well; I think a relaxing evening on the "beach" actually sounded quite attractive to him. We all had a fun evening, and the clean-up actually went pretty quickly. All five of my kids helped Jethro and I clean it up.

As a mom, sometimes I have realized that it is better to just go with the situation at hand instead of making everything perfect. Who knows, maybe we could have a beach night again? But not any time soon...


	10. Toaster

_**TOASTER**_

On Saturday morning, Jethro and I woke up to the sound of a loud clash in the kitchen.

Throwing my slippers on, I raced down the stairs behind my husband to see what had caused the noise, afraid one of my kids had been hurt.

I walked in to the kitchen and found Tony sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by pieces of the toaster oven.

"Tony!" I shrieked, "What happened in here?!"

"I was trying to toast a bagel, but I didn't really know how to use it. I tried to figure it out, Mom, but I think I broke it more," Tony said sadly, holding up pieces of the broken toaster oven with one hand and the screwdriver he had apparently been attempting to use with the other.

Jethro walked over to the kitchen table and picked up pieces. Tony had obviously been working on this for a while, but based on the number of pieces, it looked as if he was taking it apart instead of fixing whatever the supposed problem was.

"How on earth did this happen?" said Jethro, taking the screwdriver from our son, "It is going to take me all day to fix this. I have no idea how to put this back together.

"Well, Jethro," I said with a smile, "If you can figure out how to build a boat, I am sure you can fix a simple toaster oven."

And with that, I turned around and walked out of the room, knowing that if I stuck around, I would surely get nothing but sarcasm.


	11. Child Proof

_**CHILD-PROOF**_

When Kate was little, she used to have a habit of opening jars and lids. Sometimes, she would get in to cleaning products or medicines, so Jethro and I always had to make sure all potentially hazardous products had child safe lids.

One day when Kate had a nasty cold, I told her to get a bottle of kid's Tylenol from the medicine cabinet.

I watched her get up on the stool and rummage through the cabinet until she found the Tylenol. She then hopped off the stool and attempted to open the lid.

Seeing her struggling with the lid, I said, "Here, Caitlin, bring that to me. It has a child-proof lid, so I will have to open it."

Eyes wide with wonder, Kate looked at me and said, "How does it know it's me?!"


	12. Just For Your Attention

_**JUST FOR YOUR ATTENTION**_

Tony and Timmy raced through the kitchen, giggling suspiciously as they passed me.

"Boys," I yelled after them, "What are you up to?"

"Nothing, Mom!" Tony yelled back at me as he and his brother bolted out of the room.

As usual, my sons were up to something, I just did not know what...and knowing them I probably didn't want to know.

However, I didn't have too much time to ponder their behavior, because at that moment Kate walked in the front door with her best friend Jane. They had just come back from the park.

"Mom," she said as she passed me, "Jane and I are going to be in my room if you need us."

I nodded in approval as I put a batch of cookies in the oven.

In seconds, I heard two shrieks coming from the direction of Kate's room.

"Kate?! Jane?!" I said, abandoning the cookies and running as fast as I could up the stairs.

"Tonyyyyyyyyy!" screamed Kate, "Ughhhhhhhh!"

I reached the top of the stairs and looked in to Kate's room.

Inside, I saw Tony and Timmy jumping up and down on their sister's bed, laughing as they held Kate's bras up to their chests. Not that you could really call these bras...they were only training bras; my 11 year old was completely flat, but they were still bras all the same as far as two little boys were concerned.

I laughed.

"Boys," I said, trying as hard as I could not to smile, "Put those down. Those aren't for you."

Timmy jumped off the bed and stuffed the bra he was holding back in to Kate's dresser drawer, but Tony stayed on the bed.

"I'm Kaaaaate," he said in a voice only a 7 year old boy could master, "and I have booooobies!"

"Tony!" Kate shrieked again, "Stop it! Put it back!"

Finally I convinced Tony to leave the room and stop bothering the girls.

"Tony," I said when I got him downstairs, "You and Timmy need to stay out of Kate's room. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," said Tony, sadly looking down at his lap, "I was just trying to..." He trailed off.

"Just trying to do what, Tony?" I asked

"Trying to get her attention," he whispered.

"Who's attention?"

"Jane's."

"Oh?" I said, smirking, "Jane, huh?"

"Yeah," Tony said.

"Well, I bet Jane would like you a lot better if you did not pester her and Kate," I advised him.

Secretly, I was glad Jane has two brothers, (the younger of which being quite a little trouble maker) so she was probably un-surprised by his...well, his Tony-ness...

"Hey Tony," I said, taking the cookies out of the oven, "Why don't you take a few of these cookies up to the girls and apologize for what you did."

Tony smiled and eagerly ran upstairs with the plate of cookies.

There are some things that go on in my 7 year old's mind that I will never understand...

**A/N: Yes, the Rizzoli & Isles reference was intentional for any of you who were wondering :] And if you don't watch R&I, you should, because Sasha Alexander is the best actress ever :]**


	13. Yogurt

_**YOGURT**_

Last night, I was sitting at the kitchen table helping Kate with a homework worksheet when Ziva walked in to the room. She grabbed the seat of one of the kitchen chairs, and climbed up in to it.

"Smack, Mommy!" she said, slapping her hands out in front of her on the table, "I wanna smack!"

_Why did everything in that child's mind have to do with hitting?_

"No, Ziva," I corrected her, laughing, "_Snack_. You want a _snack_."

"Yeah!" the two year old exclaimed, "Yogurt!"

I got up and retrieved a yogurt and a spoon for my daughter and set it on the table in front of her, making the mistake of not opening it for her.

Ziva snatched the yogurt and pulled the foil off the top of the container. In doing so, she squeezed the yogurt container too hard, causing the yogurt to explode all over the kitchen as she pulled off the top.

Kate (and her worksheet) were drenched in pink stickiness. So was Ziva. I managed not to get splashed too badly.

Ziva froze, still holding the yogurt cup in her left hand and the foil lid in her right.

"Ugh!" Kate exclaimed, lifting her soggy paper, "My homework!"

I grabbed Ziva by her middle, picked her up, and set her in the kitchen sink. I quickly pulled most of her clothes off and turned on the faucet.

Returning to the kitchen table, I grabbed a dish towel and blotted Kate's clothes, hair, and face. Her homework was hopelessly soggy. I picked it up and slid it in to the garbage can.

Kate, always the perfectionist, still looked annoyed.

"Mom," she whined, "I have never had a late homework assignment before! This will ruin my perfect record! And if we don't get our homework in on time we don't get to go on the field trip to the museum next month! So now because of Ziva, I won't get to go!"

"Caitlin, don't worry. I'll call your teacher and tell her what happened. I will make sure she does not count it late." I said.

Ziva looked up at Kate with big, sad eyes.

"Kate, you mad at me?" She asked

Kate's expression softened. She tucked one of her little sister's dark curls behind her ear.

"No, I'm not mad, Zi," she said, "I can't be mad at you. You're only two. Just ask for help next time, okay? I really needed to get that worksheet done."

"Okay." Ziva said, hugging her sister the best she could from inside the sink.

"Kate," I said, "Why don't you go change and bring me that shirt so I can throw it in the wash. I will do laundry after I give Ziva a bath."

Kate nodded. "Sure, Mom."

Kate started to walk out of the room, but then stopped and turned around.

"Mom," she said, "Since I'm already all sticky, do you think maybe I could give Ziva her bath?"

Ziva started jumping up and down in the sink. "Yeah! Kate!" She said.

"Well," I said to Kate, "There you have it...I guess you really are her favorite!"


	14. Toy

_**TOY**_

I was watching TV while Ziva was playing on the floor in front of me.

One of her new toys was sitting about five feet away from her. Tony walked in to the room, picked up the toy and began to play with it himself.

"Dat's mine!" Ziva said, extending her arms towards her brother in hopes that he would return the toy.

"Ziva, you were not playing with that toy right now, anyway," I said, "You were playing with the blocks. Why don't you let Tony play with that toy for a little while."

I could tell she was not happy, but Ziva resumed building her block tower, letting Tony have the toy.

Several minutes later, Tony must've pulled or bent something wrong, because he somehow managed to get his hand squished in the toy.

Without missing a beat, Ziva said, "And it bites you, too!"


	15. Shot

_**SHOT**_

I have never been good with doctor's offices, especially when the visits involve me getting a shot. My kids are better with doctors than I am, honestly.

However, today I was going to have to suck it up, because the NCIS requires every agent to get a series of vaccinations every year. I was due for 4 shots. Lucky me.

Abby decided she wanted to come with me to the doctor's office (Secretly, I think she was hoping the doctor would give her a sticker), so as we sat in the waiting room, she asked me about the shots I had to get today.

"Mommy, do you like shots?" She asked, looking up at me as she swung her legs, the metal on her boots clanking against the chair legs.

"Sweetie, I do not think anybody likes shots. They hurt, but we need them to stay healthy," I told her, not wanting her to pick up on just how much I hated shots.

Once I had been called in and I sat on the cold, paper-covered table, I felt my body beginning to tense up. Man, I hated shots, but I knew I had to be a good example for Abby.

The nurse walked in, and as she raised the needle to my forearm, I must have made a face, because Abby immediately grabbed my other hand, squeezed it, and said, "Mommy, if you're brave, we can go get ice cream after this."

The nurse and I both started laughing, and my laughter took my mind off of the shots.

Abby and I enjoyed our ice cream very much, by the way! And Abby got her sticker, too!


	16. Eatable

_**EATABLE**_

At the plant nursery, I grabbed a cart and headed towards the seasonal plants. Tony hopped on the front of the cart, standing on the bottom metal tray and holding on to the sides of it.

As we wheeled past a row of plants with berries on them, Tony pointed to one with big red berries and asked me "Is this one eatable?"

"The word is 'edible', Tony, but no, I would not eat those berries." I said.

Tony looked at me with a half confused and half annoyed expression.

"No, mom. The word is 'eatable'." He insisted, "You don't say 'I sat down to _ed_'. You say 'I sat down to _eat_'. So the word is eatable."

"That is an interesting point, Tony," I said, pondering what he said.

"Well, I am a smarty pants, Mom," Tony said proudly.

I had no response for that, other than to smile, roll my eyes, and ruffle my son's hair.

**A/N: So, after I wrote this, I googled the word "eatable", and found that it actually**_** is**_** a word…ha! I decided to publish this anyway, just because I like Tony's attitude in it :]**


	17. Experiment

_**EXPERIMENT**_

Hearing the sound of my cell phone ringing, I leaned back to pull it out of my jacket pocket.

"Mrs. Gibbs," the angry male voice on the other end said, "This is Principal Manning from Washington Hills Elementary School. Is there any chance you could come in? We have an emergency."

I sighed. I assumed my children's principal had my cell number about memorized at this point.

"I am at work right now, sir." I said, rather annoyed, "What happened?"

"Well, I think you should just come in and see for yourself," he replied snappily, "We have an emergency, and Abigail is in quite a bit of trouble."

_Abby?_ I wondered? She was the last one I expected to be in trouble. I get calls about Tony and Timmy's schemes almost weekly, but Abby? What could she possibly have done?

I quickly gathered my stuff and told the director I had a family emergency. On the way out, I briefed Jethro on my phone call with the principal.

Pulling up to the school, I saw a fire truck in front of the school and all the kids evacuated outside. I parked my car in a place that probably wasn't a parking spot and ran as fast as I could in to the building.

I walked in the main office and the principal immediately greeted me with an all-too-aggressive handshake and said "Mrs. Gibbs, I'd like you to come with me and have a look at our science lab."

_Oh shit_, I thought.

We approached the lab and one of the firemen opened the door to let us in. They were on their way out. The room was filled with smoke and dust. I had to wave my hands in front of my face just to see.

"Ugh," I said, coughing, "What happened in here?"

"Your daughter came in here, without permission, during lunch and decided to try a few experiments. Needless to say, she was unsupervised," He told me.

I almost laughed. _That was so Abby._

Looking around, I saw a bottle of an unidentifiable fluid on a table, accompanied by a bottle containing Clorox bleach. The bleach was tipped over on to its side, dripping on to the floor. On another table, some other cleaning products and a lighter were laid out haphazardly. My daughter had obviously broken in to the Janitor's closet, and possibly went through his or her personal belongings, too.

"Principal Manning, where is my daughter?" I asked, suddenly realizing she must have been in the middle of all this when it happened.

"That's the problem, Mrs. Gibbs." He said, "We don't know."

My heart nearly stopped. "What?! How do you know she did this, then?"

"The teachers take attendance when we have a fire evacuation, and Abigail was the only one missing. Plus, we know she has a...uh...knack for this kind of stuff..." He said, gesturing towards the science equipment, "...but I assure you the firemen are looking for her. They will find her, Mrs. Gibbs. She couldn't have gone far."

I grabbed my phone and called Jethro. I explained what happened and told him to come to the school immediately.

Just as I was about to go in to complete and total Mom-Mode, a young, muscular fireman came in to the science lab and tapped my shoulder. I turned around.

"Are you Abby's mom?" He asked.

"Yes," I said, "Do you have any idea where my daughter is?"

"Actually, we found her." He said, smiling, "Let me take you to her."

I nervously followed him to a closet in a hallway about four doors down from the science lab.

"Abby," he said in a friendly voice as he knocked on the door, "Your mommy is here. We really need you to unlock the door so we can make sure you're okay."

_Who the hell puts a closet that locks from the inside in an elementary school?_

"Abby, can you please come out?" I asked.

Slowly and carefully, Abby opened the door. She was down on her hands and knees on the floor. I could tell it was not fear of the scientific mess that had caused my daughter to lock herself in the closet, but fear of reprimand and punishment. She had a cut on her forehead and some dirt on her face, but other than that she looked alright.

As she cautiously crawled out, I leaned down, scooped her up in to my arms and held her as tight as I could. Abby responded best to love and care; yelling at her would just frighten her more.

Sobbing in to my shoulder, the 7-year-old said "Mommy I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Mommy, I'm sorry."

As the fireman took her from me, I told her everything was going to be fine, the mess could be cleaned up, and I was glad she was safe.

Turning back to Principal Manning, I said, "Please do not punish her too harshly. She did not mean any harm, and I think she is scared enough already. Plus I know she will get grief from her classmates."

The principal nodded, which I assumed meant he agreed with me.

Just then, Jethro walked up behind me. "Have they found Abby yet?" He asked.

"Yes, they did, and she's fine, Jethro," I said.

The tense expression on his face disappeared as another fireman led him around the corner to the area where they had taken Abby to check her over.

I believe Abby's school has learned several lessons from her: One, always lock the science lab. Two, always lock the Janitor's closet. And three, make sure all the kids are accounted for during lunch.

As for me, I was just glad my daughter was okay, and hopefully she had learned her lesson!


	18. Chicken

_**CHICKEN**_

One day when Timmy was sick, I made chicken soup for dinner. I figured the soup would be good for him, plus I know it is something my kids enjoy.

Walking in to the kitchen to see what I was making, Timmy said, "What's for dinner, Mommy?"

"Chicken soup," I said, handing him a tissue to blow his nose.

"No, Mommy!" He said, "I can't have chicken when I'm sick! It'll make me worse!"

"Why will it make you worse?" I said as I pulled a bottle of Children's Tylenol from the medicine cabinet.

"Because it'll give me chicken pox!" He exclaimed.

I laughed as I explained to him that chicken pox have nothing to do with actual chickens.


	19. Big-Girl School

_**BIG-GIRL SCHOOL**_

"Mom, can I take Ziva to school with me?" Kate asked, picking Ziva up out of her high chair.

"No, sweetie," I said, "Ziva is not old enough to go to school yet."

"But she can sit in my desk! My teacher won't mind," Kate argued.

"No, she cannot go with you to school today," I said with a smile, "Now go get your coat on or you'll be late for school."

Kate gave a disgruntled sigh, but put Ziva down and walked out of the room to get ready for school. Ziva quickly waddled after her, trying to catch up.

My kids left for school, and I had to finish getting ready for the day. I would drop Ziva off at day care, and then go to work. Jethro had already left.

"Ziva?" I yelled in to the family room, "Come here please, I have to get you dressed."

No response.

"Ziva?"

I still heard nothing. Ugh. I rolled my eyes and went looking for her. She could be so difficult sometimes.

After searching for several minutes, I was starting to get concerned. Ziva liked to hide and tended to be disobedient, but usually I could at least find where she was hiding.

Assuming she would eventually come out of hiding, I resumed getting ready for work. While I was getting dressed, the phone rang.

"Good morning Mrs. Gibbs, This is Mrs. Johnson, Kate's teacher. How are you doing this morning?"

"Uh, okay. What can I do for you?" I said skeptically. I didn't like the sound of this.

"Are you missing a child, Mrs. Gibbs?" she asked.

"Actually," I said, knowing exactly how this conversation was going to end, "I am missing my two-year-old."

"Yes, she is here, Mrs. Gibbs. Kate brought her to school today."

Rolling my eyes again, I grabbed my keys and went to the elementary school to retrieve Ziva. Now I was going to be late for work, darn it.

I walked up to Kate's classroom on the second floor and knocked on the door.

The friendly, heavy-set woman opened the door and gave me a wide smile. Looking in to the classroom, I could see Kate holding Ziva and all the other kids in the class huddled around her.

"It is not every day we see a baby in the classroom!" Mrs. Johnson said, "She is very cute! My students have enjoyed playing with her, but we need to get on with our day now."

"I am _so_ sorry, Mrs. Johnson." I said, "It will not happen again."

Kate came to the door and handed Ziva to me.

"Caitlin," I said, "What did I tell you about bringing her to school with you?"

"Not to."

"And what did you do?"

"I took her to school," Kate said softly, looking down at her feet.

I apologized to Mrs. Johnson again, but she just laughed it off. I was thankful she was such a sweet and caring woman.

On our way to the car, Ziva said, "Mommy, I go to big girl school soon?"

"Yes, Ziva. You are starting preschool next year."

"Oh," she said, pondering what I said, "When do I go to this school?"

"Not for a while, sweetie. You still have a long time to go. But it's okay, because you will like preschool. It will be fun and you will make a lot of new friends."

"Oh, okay Mommy," she said, "That sounds good."

After a pause, Ziva said, "Mommy, I like big girl school. I got to sit in Kate's big girl desk and she showed me her calc'alator."

I smiled as I opened the door of our SUV and buckled my daughter in to her car seat. For now, I was going to enjoy every minute of Ziva being two. As it was, I couldn't believe that I already had a daughter in 5th grade. It felt like yesterday that Kate was the one I was buckling in to a car seat.


	20. Improvise

_**IMPROVISE**_

For several months, Kate had been working very hard preparing for her lead role in the local community center's production of the Broadway musical "Baby". Tonight was finally the opening night, and I could tell she was nervous.

I got her to the auditorium and helped her get in to costume. I knew her crush, Zach, had the male lead role, and that she was very excited to be his female lead counter-part.

In the hallway outside the dressing room, Zach came up to us.

"Hey Kate," he said, "Your costume looks really nice."

She blushed slightly. "Thanks Zach. You are going to do great tonight. Are you nervous?"

"Yeah," he said, "I'm reallllly nervous. I don't think I'm going to be able to do this, Kate. I feel sick."

"Sure you can!" Kate said, putting her hand on his shoulder, "It's going to be fine."

A woman came out in to the hall and told the cast to get ready. The play would be starting soon.

I kissed Kate, and told Zach it was nice to meet him, then I went to the auditorium to join Jethro and the rest of my kids in the audience.

"She nervous?" Jethro asked me.

"Yeah, a little," I replied, "But not as nervous as her friend Zach who has the male lead."

The lights dimmed and the curtain opened, revealing a beautifully made set.

A boy and girl took the stage first for a brief opening scene, and when the curtain opened again, it was Kate's turn to take the stage.

She walked out and started reciting her lines; they sounded great. I could tell her hours of hard work paid off.

Saying the line that was the prompt for Zach's character to take the stage, she paused, during which time Zach was supposed to appear from behind the curtain.

The pause grew awkwardly long, and I heard a few people shuffling in their seats as they wondered what was happening.

Determined to stay in character, Kate told the audience that it "seemed her husband had not heard her" and that she was going to go get him.

In roughly a minute's time, Kate took the stage again. This time, she appeared to be playing not only her own role, but Zach's role too.

Using her comedic talent, she managed to play both parts throughout the entire play in a seemingly pre-planned, absolutely hilarious way. The audience was loving it, and Kate was the star of the show. The rest of my kids clapped and cheered during almost every scene, especially Timmy and Ziva.

After the play, Kate rushed up to us. Abby threw her arms around her and told her that she was the best actress ever.

"Nice job, Kate," Tony said as he handed her the bouquet of flowers he had helped me pick out for her earlier.

"I improvised!" She exclaimed, thrilled with her own performance.

"Yes, you did!" I said, hugging her, "But, what happened to Zach?"

"He completely chickened out and left," Kate said, "But it was okay, because I knew most of his lines."

"You did really funny, Kate!" Timmy said, still smiling.

Ziva started clapping again.

"I am very proud of you, Kate," Jethro said as he kissed her forehead.

I was prouder of my daughter than I could possibly begin to express. Always the problem solver, Kate had saved the entire show. Abby decided we needed to go out and celebrate, and celebrate we did!

**A/N: Apparently something similar to this really did happen to Sasha Alexander when she was in junior high. The amount of talent that woman has is amazing :]**


	21. Batteries

_**BATTERIES**_

On Wednesday evening, I had to stop by the office to pick up an autopsy report. I had Timmy with me, so I decided it would be easiest to just bring him along with me.

After checking to make sure there were no bodies lying out, I took Timmy by the hand and led him in to the autopsy room. Our friendly Medical Examiner, Dr. Mallard, immediately engaged in a conversation with my five-year-old while I skimmed through the report I was picking up.

Dr. Mallard was telling Timmy about how our blood pumps through our whole body, from our head all the way down to our toes. He then showed Timmy the spots on his wrists and neck where the pulse can be felt.

When I glanced over again, Timmy was looking at the backs of his arms, twisting and turning and pulling back his clothing to see his entire body. He even put his hand up the back of his shirt to feel his back.

"Dr. Mallard," Timmy asked with a confused look, "Where do we put the batteries?"


	22. Beep

_**BEEP**_

The other day we were in the car on the way to dinner when Jethro, who was driving, hit the horn.

I looked over at him from the passenger's seat, as if asking for an explanation without actually saying so.

"I hit the horn by mistake," he told me.

From the back seat, Tony said, "It's okay, Dad. I know it was not intentional."

Curious, I asked, "And how do you know that, Tony?"

"Easy," Tony said, "He didn't yell 'Asshole!' afterwards."


	23. Storm

_**STORM**_

As I was tucking the kids in to bed, I could hear it was storming quite loudly outside.

There was a huge boom, followed by lightning so bright it lit up the whole sky.

Timmy pulled his blanket up so everything except his face was covered. In a scared, shaky voice, he said, "Mommy, I'm scared. Will you sleep with me tonight?"

"No, sweetie, I can't," I replied, "I have to sleep in Daddy's room."

Timmy was quiet for a moment, then got out of bed and walked down the hall and found Jethro.

"Daddy," Timmy said angrily, "You are a sissy. I need Mommy more than you do!"

Jethro was speechless, and I stood there laughing.


	24. You're the Boss

_**You're the Boss**_

"Mom," Kate said, "Can I have a sleepover next weekend? All the other girls at school have them and I am the only one who has never had one."

I thought it over for a minute, and decided that it would be okay.

"Sure," I said, "How many girls are we talking about?"

"Only about six or seven," Kate replied.

"Six or seven?!" Jethro cut in, joining us in the kitchen, "I am _not_ supervising that many pre-teen girls."

"I don't see why not," I told him, "Like Kate said, all the other girls are always inviting Kate to their sleepovers. It is only fair that she returns the favor."

Kate smiled, happy that I had taken her side.

"We'll be good, Dad, I promise!" she bargained.

Jethro still gave me a hesitant look.

Now Tony joined us in the kitchen. He stepped up on to one of the kitchen chairs so he was the same height as Jethro, and casually leaned his elbow on his father's shoulder.

"Dad," he said in his best grown up voice, "You know, yeah, you're tough and all, but when it comes down to it, Mom still makes the rules. She has the final say."

"Oh, really?" Jethro said, shooting me a sarcastic look, as if I had somehow put Tony up to this.

Figuring out why Tony was backing Kate and me up on this one wasn't really a challenge. I couldn't imagine him having a problem with six or seven girls running around the house in pajamas.

"Yeah," said Tony, "Sorry, but Mom's the boss around here."

All I could do was smirk.

"So if you're the boss," Jethro said to me, "You're responsible if anything happens? If, for example, someone, oh, I don't know…makes a mess...you will take care of it?"

"I guess so," I said, "Sure."

_How much of a mess could little girls make? _I thought, still thinking he was referring to the sleepover.

Now Jethro smirked at me.

"Good," he replied, "Because Ziva's coloring on the wall."**  
**


	25. Christmas Gifts

_**Christmas Gifts**_

Reaching under the Christmas tree, I pulled forward the last remaining gifts waiting to be opened. The kids had just finished opening their gifts (new boots and a necklace for Kate, a handful of DVDs for Tony, a science kit and a skull-print sweater for Abby, a new video game for Timmy, and a toddler-size peacoat and mittens for Ziva), and now it was Jethro and my turn to open gifts.

I picked up the cute, childishly decorated gift bag and felt something slosh inside. Suddenly, I was not sure I wanted to know what was in that gift bag.

Hesitantly, I pulled out the red and green tissue paper, revealing a plastic Ziploc bag. The bag was filled about 1/2 of the way with water, and floating in it was two black buttons, 3 red buttons, and a carrot.

I held the Ziploc bag in front of me, trying to figure out what it was. I did not want to insult my children by asking, but at the same time, I wasn't sure how to react to the odd gift.

I looked at my kids for an explanation.

Sadly, Timmy said, "I made you a snowman, Mommy, but I dunno what happened to it".

**A/N: So, I'm Jewish, but I hope I got the whole Christmas thing right :]**


	26. Lunch Money

_**Lunch Money**_

I finished making the kid's lunches and lined them up on the end of the counter.

Kate was at the kitchen table finishing her toast and a banana. Looking at the lunch bags, then at me, she asked, "Mom, you do know that Tony has you make his lunch every day, and then he goes and asks Dad for lunch money, right?"

I stopped and looked up.

"Are you kidding me?" I asked.

Kate shook her head.

_Darn it,_ that child had outsmarted me again!

"Jethro!" I yelled, summoning my husband to the kitchen.

A few seconds later his heavy footsteps made their way into the room.

"Does Tony ask you for lunch money every day?" I questioned him.

"Yeah," he said casually.

"And do you give it to him?"

"Yeah."

"Jethro," I said, "I make Tony a lunch every day. He does not need money for lunch."

Jethro gave me one of his ever-famous know it all looks.

"I know that, Jen," he joked casually, "I don't give him the money because I think he needs it for lunch. I give it to him as a reward for outsmarting his Mom."

I shook my head and playfully smacked Jethro in the face with a dish towel. Shame on him...


	27. Microwaved

_**Microwaved**_

I sat in the middle of the living room floor with Ziva, handing her blocks one at a time so she could pick them up and place them on top of each other. She would get up to ten or twelve blocks before the block tower would collapse, which, for whatever reason, put her in a giggle-fit every time.

This time when she stopped laughing, the two-year-old looked at me and said, "Mama, wuzza' smell?"

I sniffed the air, realizing there was a potent burning-scent present.

I looked around the room quizzically, but determined the scent must be coming from the basement where Jethro was working on his latest boat.

Ziva and I resumed our game, but a few minutes later, I sensed the smell getting stronger. I could tell Ziva did too.

I picked her up, slung her on to my hip, and walked downstairs to the basement.

"Jethro," I said, "Is everything okay down here?"

"Yeah," he said, "Why wouldn't it be?"

"You don't smell that?" I asked, "It sounds like something's burning."

He laughed. "I just thought you were cooking..."

I rolled my eyes sarcastically and carried Ziva back upstairs. The smell was getting stronger. I was surprised the fire alarm hadn't gone off yet.

I reached the kitchen, and found Timmy standing on a chair in front of the microwave. The microwave was on, and I could see sparks through the window in the microwave door. I quickly set Ziva down, lifted Timmy off the chair, and opened the door of the microwave. Inside lie what looked like a very petrified CD.

Using an oven mitt and a paper towel, I removed the CD and set it on the counter.

"Timothy," I said exasperatedly, "Why is this in the microwave?"

"I wanna test it," he said, "and it made fireworks!"

This child sure had no fear of electronics.

I knelt down to his level, and explained to him the best I could that a microwave is only for certain types of food, and that Mommy or Daddy always had to be there if the microwave was on.

"Okay," said Timmy, "Since you're here now, we put 'nuther CD in?"

I laughed.

Eh, what the heck. We needed a new microwave after this little experiment anyway.

**  
A/N: This chapter is for Faith, who asked me to elaborate on the part in Chapter 1 (babysitter) where it mentions Timmy put a CD in the microwave :]**


	28. Bloom

_**Bloom**_

Last week, our neighbor Mr. Douglas called to inform me that his wife, Mary, had passed away. She was about 80 years old, and had been battling cancer for a number of years, so I was not shocked by the news. However, I was sad, and I knew the kids would be heartbroken. They liked Mrs. Douglas a lot, and would surely miss her giving them treats.

The day of Mary Douglas's funeral, Jethro and I dressed the kids in black and went to the service to show our respect.

The kids had never been to a funeral before, and while we were at the cemetery, Abby asked me what was happening. She was fascinated by the funeral process.

I explained to Abby that when someone dies, we put them in a fancy box called a casket.

"Then what happens?" She asked curiously.

"Then we put them in the ground and bury them," I told her.

"Oh," she said.

She was quiet for a few moments before saying, "Then why is everyone so sad? In the spring, Mrs. Douglas will bloom and we will see her again!"

A few people heard Abby's statement, and that in itself was enough to brighten the mood.


	29. Accident

_**Accident**_

About two years ago- right after Ziva was born- I was at the hardware store buying a shelf to put in the new baby's room.

I had all five kids with me, as they were all too young to leave home by themselves.

Anthony said he needed to go potty, and he was right at the age where he was still a little young to go by himself, but at the same time a little too old for me to be bringing him in to the women's restroom with me. Jethro was not with us to take him, so I asked Tony if he felt comfortable going potty by himself. The five-year-old eagerly shook his head "yes".

"Just walk right to the back of the store, Tony," I said, pointing straight back. We had been to this particular Home Depot several times, so I assumed he had a general idea where it was.

I watched him walk off, then turned my attention back to the row of shelving units I was looking at. I picked out the one I needed and set it in the cart next to Timmy and Ziva, but did not walk away from where I was standing. I wanted Tony to be able to find me easily when he walked out of the restroom.

Several minutes passed, and I was still standing in the shelving aisle when I saw two employees rushing to the back of the store with a mop and cleaning supplies.

I ignored it, until Kate reminded me that Tony had been gone for an awfully long time.

I decided that maybe I should go back and knock on the restroom door to see if Tony was okay. If I had to, I could send a male employee in to help him.

I had just about reached the back of the store when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw some commotion a few aisles over near the bath department.

I stopped in my tracks when I saw Tony standing between two employees. He was wearing nothing from his waist down. One employee was trying to pull my son's underwear and pants back up. Another employee was kneeling down next to him, a hand on Tony's shoulder, appearing to be talking to him kindly.

For a moment, I wasn't sure if I should run, or face the fact that my son had just used a model toilet in a hardware store for his personal use.

I grabbed Kate and Abby by the hand and pushed the cart carrying Timmy, Ziva, and the shelf towards Tony, his mess, and the employees.

"Mommy!" Tony exclaimed, frantically running towards me, his pants still half sagging around his knees.

Yep, that was me...proud mom.

One of the employees approached me as I bent down to finish buttoning Tony's pants.

"Ma'am," he said, "Your son just...uh..." He trailed off, gesturing towards the display of toilets.

"I can see that," I said. I quickly apologized. I was so embarrassed that I just wanted to get the hell out of that hardware store, but I offered to help clean up the mess anyway.

The employee thanked me, but declined my offer, and told me the cleaning crew had handled it.

_Thank God._

While we were waiting in the checkout line, I explained to Tony what he did wrong, because clearly all he thought he'd done was go potty by himself like a big boy.

There was no way I could punish him, but I decided that from now on, I would walk him to the door of the bathroom and wait just outside.

Plus, Kate still teases him about his little accident to this day, and _that's_ punishment enough.


	30. Peanuts

_**Peanuts**_

As I walked down the hall to collect the laundry from the kid's rooms, I heard a noise coming from Abby's room. The room was dark, but I stopped in the doorway anyway to identify the source of the sound.

I flipped on the light switch and saw my daughter. She was sitting in the far corner of her room with her knees tucked up against her, and she was clutching a teddy bear with both arms. Her eyes were red, and large tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Abby," I said, sitting down next to her and lifting her into my lap, "What's wrong sweetheart?"

She didn't say anything, but buried her face in my chest and continued to cry. I had noticed she had been awfully quiet lately, but I had assumed it was because she was still grieving over the death of our neighbor, Mrs. Douglas.

I held her for several minutes, not saying anything, until Timothy was walking down the hall and saw us.

He came in the room and sat down next to Abby and me. After observing the situation for a moment, he asked, "Mommy, why Abby is sad?"

I didn't have an answer, so I said, "I don't know, honey, why don't you ask her?"

He asked, and this time Abby turned- still sitting in my lap- to face him.

"Emma Anderson said I'm weird," she mumbled, "She said my clothes are strange and everyone is scared of me. No one wants to be my friend."

Whoever this Emma Anderson brat was, I was going to get her. How could anyone dislike my sweet little daughter with the pigtails and the endless happy smile? Why are kids so naive? ...Then again, these are 7 year old brains.

"Oh, Abby, that's awful," I said, pulling one of her braids behind her shoulder, "Emma sounds like a very mean little girl. Do not listen to her, sweetheart."

Abby continued, "She said my necklace looks like the one her neighbor's mean dog wears. Then she said my clothes look like Halloween, and her older sister said for her to stay away from me because I am bad."

"You are perfect just the way you are, Abby," I told her, "You are just different, and different is the best thing you can be."

She smiled at that.

We sat in silence for a moment, and then Timmy abruptly stood up. He angrily crossed his arms, then stomped his tiny foot.

"Abby," he said, "Imma kick her in the peanuts!"

Yep, you go get her, Tim.


	31. In Defense

_**In Defense**_

For the third time this month, I left work in the middle of the day to head to my kids' school. Principal Manning had called to inform me- once again- that one of them was in trouble.

"Hello, Mrs. Gibbs," one of the secretaries grumbled obnoxiously as I walked by her desk on my way to the principal's office. I waved, but rolled my eyes as soon as I looked away. It seemed our dislike was mutual.

I knocked on Principal Manning's office door, then opened it to see Tony and Abby sitting in the two chairs across from him.

"Please, have a seat Mrs. Gibbs," the principal said, gesturing towards another chair in the room.

He then turned to address my kids. Looking at them closer now, I realized Abigail's pigtails were severely crooked, her boots were scuffed, and her new skirt was muddy.

"Anthony," Principal Manning said sharply, "Would you like to tell your mother what happened during lunch recess today, or shall I?"

"It wasn't my fault, Mom," he said quietly. He then put his arm around his twin sister, "Emma Anderson pushed Abby off the swing and in to the mud. Then she said mean things to her and pulled Abby's hair, so I hit Emma 'cause she's a meanie."

Principal Manning then said, "Anthony, you didn't just hit Emma, you pushed her in to a wall."

"Yeah! 'Cause she was a meanie to my sister!" Tony said aggressively.

Abby was being very quiet. I knew this Emma Anderson girl had been bullying her, but I had no idea how severe it was or that it was physical. I wanted this girl kept away from my daughter.

"Principal Manning," I said, "Abby has told me about being bullied by Emma a lot the past few weeks. Why is this being allowed to occur and why are the teachers not intervening?"

The principal sat back in his chair. "Well, Mrs. Gibbs, each teacher has approximately 30, if not more, students that he or she is responsible for. It is hard to catch every little thing-"

I angrily cut him off, "So, you are defending your staff? My 7 year old was pushed off a swing and thrown in to the mud, and you see_ nothing_ wrong with this?!"

"I agree, there should have been a little more supervision, but Abigail needs to learn to speak up for herself..."

Was this man out of his mind?!

"Look, sir, I don't care what you have to do, but I want this Emma brat to be kept away from my child, and I want to see that she is punished. As for my son's actions, I will deal with them on my own. He hardly seems like the one in need of a punishment here," I paused, stood up, and stated, "I will be in contact with you."

I picked Abby up, slung her on to my hip, grabbed Tony's hand, and took them out of the room. There was no way this idiot was going to punish my son. I would definitely have a talk with him at home, but I believed he had good intentions behind his actions. And the first thing I was going to do when I got home was find a phone number for Emma's mother.

**  
A/N: This is for EvE79, who wanted to see the twin-bond between Abby & Tony :]**


	32. Juice

_**Juice**_

I walked in to the kitchen to see Timothy sitting at the table holding an orange in one hand and a bendy straw in the other. He was forcefully stabbing the orange with the straw.

"Timmy," I said, walking over to where he was sitting, "What are you doing?"

"Trying to drink orange juice, Mom," he said in a _duh_ voice.

I laughed. "Honey, you can't stick a straw in an orange and drink the juice. It doesn't quite work that way."

"But dats how it shows it in the picture on the orange juice carton," he said.

I laughed again. "They have special oranges that are specifically for making juice. How about we go to the store and we can get some, and then I'll show you how to make orange juice. How does that sound?"

Timmy eagerly agreed, and I had to go grocery shopping anyway, so this worked out perfectly. We went to the store and Timmy helped me pick out a bag of juicing oranges that he thought looked the "juiciest"- as he put it.

When we got home, Tim helped me put all the groceries away, and then I pulled out the juicer.

I showed the five year old how to put the juicer over a bowl so the juice would drain in to it. I then cut each orange in half and helped Timmy twist it over the pointed part. He got very excited when he saw the juice in the bottom of the bowl.

"Mommy, now I drink this?!" He said.

"Yep, you can drink that," I said, smiling at his excitedness.

I was going to pour the juice in to a cup for him, but he said he'd rather drink it "like how he drinks his milk in the morning" out of his cereal bowl. Fine by me; one less dish I had to deal with later.


End file.
